Little Innocent
by A-D-E-E-E-R
Summary: Innocent was never a word used when describing Alex, even when she was younger. Always with dirty knees and skinned palms, and a face of permanent, loveable mischievousness. Some called her strange, others extraordinary, but with three specific Holmeses bringing her up, one thing she would never be, was normal. In the end, who would want to be? Prequel to Exception.
1. Baby Girl

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: So here is the prequel to Exception! If you haven't read that, it will make this quite difficult to understand, but I'm sure you could muddle through if you wanted to :) This first chapter is a little shorter than what the others are going to be, but it seemed like a good time to stop. **

**Enjoy:**

He was going to break her. He knew it. He was going to shift an inch and there'd be a sudden snap and his sister's newborn daughter would be in two pieces. Then he would be cut up into one hundred little pieces and scattered around the country by the said sister and elder brother.

"Sherlock, just relax. You look like you're holding a bomb," May joked.

Her voice was quiet and croaky, having not had any sleep the night before. It had been the first night she had brought her baby home from the hospital and it had been constant crying.

"I'd much rather be holding a bomb. At least they're predictable," Sherlock quipped.

His arms were stiff around the little body he was holding. Alessandra had been asleep the entire time she had been lovingly handed into Sherlock's cold and unfeeling embrace.

"Make sure you –"

"Hold its head, I know," Sherlock cut Mycroft off with a sneer. "I _have _done research, you know."

"Boys, stop. I've got a headache," May groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. "And you might wake Alex up."

Mycroft and Sherlock exchanged a look that their sister missed. It communicated the same thing, and was the look that meant they needed to intervene.

"You need to sleep, Maybelline," Mycroft said sternly.

She gave him a weary look, "I need to be here when Alex wakes up."

"We can cope with the infant for a few hours while you catch up on your rest."

Sherlock's eyes widened in alarm.

May sighed, "I'm so tired... Are you sure you two will be okay? Do you know what to do if she starts fussing?"

"Of course," Sherlock scoffed, meaning completely the opposite.

"We aren't completely incompetent," Mycroft added. "After all, it isn't like it does much."

After some deliberation, May agreed to go upstairs in one of her many rooms at Mycroft's house.

The boys sat in silence for a few minutes.

"It is still _breathing_, isn't it?" Mycroft asked, paling a little. Of course the thing would wait until it was in their care to die.

"Yes."

"Good. I –" a sharp ringing cut Mycroft's next sentence short, and he reached for the phone.

"Shut it up!" Sherlock hissed, glancing down at the baby warily.

Mycroft swiftly left the room with his mobile, leaving Sherlock alone... with a newborn.

He shifted uncomfortably again. Didn't the Prime Minister know that Mycroft had babysitting duties now?

In the silence, and when Sherlock had gotten bored of examining the contents in Mycroft's living room, he decided that he would examine the thing in his arms and catalogue its features. His sister seemed awfully enamoured with it already, and Sherlock knew that he would get a hysterical phone call if the thing were to go missing, so it was better to be prepared.

Its entire body was smaller than average, its little finger the size of one of Sherlock's nails. Its eyes were screwed tightly shut, and its lips were a pale pink. She had few strands of thin black hair. He supposed that it was rather more attractive than other babies he had seen, but it slept much too long to have taken after any of the Holmes qualities. That probably meant that it was stupid as well, excellent. So much for having a clean slate to teach, it would fall asleep by the time he got to the second sentence.

"I don't know why she called you Alessandra," he mumbled. "That's just cruel. And she'd probably be over the moon that I'm talking to you even though you can't hear me. She's like that, your mother. Not all there. I think our parents used up their genius on your uncle Mycroft and me..."

Sherlock trailed off. Uncle Mycroft... but that made him Uncle Sherlock. He was an uncle...

He sat there, straight-backed, stunned for one of the first times in his life. He, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, was an uncle. He was holding his baby niece that he was going to have to help raise. Soon it was going to start talking and walking and eating and going to school and go to swimming lessons and have a bedtime and become a teenager and be moody and get a boyfriend or girlfriend and then go to college and university and it was going to waltz back in to see him with a wave saying, 'Hey, Uncle Sherlock, what's new?' and he was going to be expected to reply and –

A gurgling noise forced Sherlock's racing thoughts to stop. He closed his eyes, prayed that his ears were deceiving him, and dared a look down.

It was the first time he had seen her eyes. A soft, gentle blue. They were tired and heavy, but bore the traces of a smile that she wasn't yet strong enough to give. Her mouth parted in attempt to talk, but the gurgling noise was made again. She looked content.

She. Not it.

Sherlock pushed down the feeling of panic and, not knowing what else to do, softly brushed his finger against her tiny pink hand. She looked at him almost curiously, and opened her palm, enclosing his finger between all five of hers. Her grip was extremely weak, but it made Sherlock smile despite himself.

"Maybe there's hope for you yet."

"Maybe for both of you," Mycroft's voice spoke up from the doorway.

Sherlock immediately withdrew his hand and scowled at him, "Aren't you busy with something?"

Mycroft ignored him, "I knew you would warm up to it."

"Her," Sherlock corrected automatically before berating himself, "Damn it! What do you care anyway? Sentiment is not an advantage, remember?"

Mycroft made his way over to his brother and niece, his face unreadable as he brushed a strand of Alex's hair away from her forehead.

"Maybe we can allow ourselves one exception."

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><p><strong>What do you think? The next chapter should be up relatively quickly and will be much longer :)<strong>

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**Abby**

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	2. Snow Day With Mycroft

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: Hello :) Not much to say today other than - I hope you like this one! Oh, and I'm taking prompts and suggestions on board.**

**Enjoy:**

_Alex aged one and a half._

Typical. On the one day that Mycroft Holmes actually has a day off, his sister unloads baby duties on him, saying that she had to 'meet someone'. And in response to Mycroft's perfectly reasonable protest of, 'but can't Sherlock look after her', Maybelline had raised an eyebrow at him and forced Alex's little hand into his.

The said child was currently sat up in her fold-up chair, examining a plastic rabbit with curiosity, turning it over and over between her fingers. She was quiet, unlike other children her age. She just seemed to watch. That was fine with Mycroft, who needed all the peace and quiet he could get to finish his report for the prime minister for their meeting tomorrow.

_I regret to inform you that the error is definitely on your end. I advise you sir, to thoroughly screen the – _

"Thnow!"

Mycroft glanced up from his computer. Alex had now shuffled out of her chair and was swaying a little precariously on her feet. She was using the wall for support and was pointing out of the window.

"Yes," Mycroft replied patiently. "Snow. It's usual for this time of year."

Alex' mouth curved into a comical 'o' and looked back and forth between her uncle and the window.

"Thnow!"

Mycroft gave her a nod and tried to go back to his work, but every time he began to type, he kept losing focus and letting his eyes stray back to his niece, still looking at the falling snow outside. Convincing himself that she wasn't going to suddenly acquire the power of flight and escape through the glass, Mycroft forced his attention back to the report.

That was until a quiet little voice asked, "We go thnow?"

"I'm busy Alex. When you're with Sherlock tomorrow, ask him. He'll take you out in the snow," Mycroft told her.

"But..." Alex mouth open and closed again as she tried to figure out the right vocabulary to word what she wanted to say, but found none. She turned back to the window in frustration.

Mycroft got halfway through the next sentence before a thought struck him.

"Alex?"

She looked at him and cocked her head to the side.

"Have you seen the snow before?"

"Noooo," she dragged out dejectedly. "We go?"

Mycroft sighed. Taking Alex out in the snow for the first time would mean that he would be equal with Sherlock – who had taken her to her first zoo. And it wasn't like he was going to get very far with this report when Alex was there.

"Fine," he replied with a mock groan.

Alex's eyes widened and her face split into a smile, revealing the two teeth that had begun to grow at the front. She immediately hurried away from the window and ran flat-footed over to Mycroft. He raised his eyebrows as she hugged his legs tightly and awkwardly patted her hair. She beamed up at him and grabbed his hand.

"We go! We go!"

He allowed himself to be 'pulled up' by her and 'dragged' over to the door. She was pulling on her wellies and reaching for the handle when Mycroft stopped her. She pouted at him.

"Don't give me that look. If you go out there dressed like that, I'd be sending you back to your mother as an ice sculpture of a child," Mycroft bent down and rummaged through the enormous bag May had dropped off with Alex. "Fortunately, your mother is an expert in the field of overpacking, so I should be able to find some warm clothes for you."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he retrieved the aforementioned items. Pint-sized gloves, hat and scarf. He handed them to Alex and she threw them on impatiently, bouncing on her feet. Tying the scarf a little tighter around her neck and zipping up her coat, Mycroft nodded for her to open the door. Alex gave a little squeal of delight.

Even Mycroft had to admit, it was quite a picturesque scene. The snow was falling thickly and blanketing the ground with a thick layer of white carpet, and the minority that didn't hit the ground, gathered snugly on the naked branches of the trees.

Alex hovered in the doorway, smiling but unsure how to proceed.

"Go on, you wanted to come out here," Mycroft reminded her, a little sharper than he would have liked.

Seeing that she was still hesitant, he stepped out into the snow, and lifted his foot back up, leaving a deep depression.

"Just step on it."

Alex held out her gloved hand to Mycroft for support, and he held her hand as she stepped into his footprint. He felt her hand tighten momentarily around his as some of the cold fell into the top of her red wellies, but instead of crying, she laughed and slipped the shoe off and upside down.

"Foot wet now," she grinned a little goofily.

"Would you like to go over to the bench where it's shallower?" Mycroft asked, seeing the predicament Alex was in regarding her small size and the deep snow.

She nodded eagerly and giggled as Mycroft slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her up onto his hip. He then trudged across the lawn with ease, admittedly exaggerating his steps for Alex's enjoyment.

"Wish tall," Alex said, amongst some other childish babble.

"Given your height now, I don't see you being overly tall in the future, I'm afraid," Mycroft replied, sweeping a layer of snow off the bench and setting her down on it, making sure her coat protected her from the melted snow on the wood.

He sat next to her, watching her reaction as a flake glided down from the sky and landed on the bridge of her nose. She almost went cross-eyed trying to properly see it, and when she went to touch it, it instantly melted. She looked to her uncle in surprise, a little gasp bubbling from her.

"Your body heat melts the snow. It turns it back into water. See?" he gently brushed his finger over the flakes that peppered Alex's coat. She gazed in fascination as they too melted. "But if you compact it, it stays in solid form for longer. Like this."

He scooped a small handful from the grass and patted it down to make a snowball. He handed it to Alex, who took it like he had just handed her the key to Buckingham Palace.

"Ball!" she cried, and threw it into the air. It, of course, flew up, and smashed on impact back in Alex's palm. She frowned. "Ball broke. I make?"

Mycroft nodded and held his arm out to the ground in invitation, "Have a go."

She climbed down from the bench, laughing when she landed heavily in the snow, causing more to fall into her shoes. She mirrored Mycroft and tried to scoop up the snow, but it ended up as a sort of pyramid shape. The top half broke off when she tried to lift it up, so she was effectively left with a handful of snow.

"Why?" she asked, a question she had become fond of recently.

"Why do people make snowballs?"

Alex nodded.

"Well, mostly for fun. Some people use them to build ice structures such as igloos, some tend to throw them at each other, and some –" Mycroft was cut off as a bundle of snow hit him square in the face.

Alex covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to giggle and trying to discern whether or not her uncle was angry. Mycroft's face was impassive as he brushed the snow from his face and coat collar, his eyes expressionless on Alex's. Her giggles stopped.

"Mad?"

He didn't respond. He wasn't angry with her in the slightest – Sherlock and May had done much worse things to him when they were Alex's age. It was difficult to be angry with the small dark-haired girl, especially since she depended and adored him as much as she did. He had never been angry with her, so he was interested to see how she would react if she thought he was.

Her brilliant blue eyes misted with tears and her bottom lip wobbled. Her already shaky legs went weak with emotion, causing her to collapse into a heap in the snow.

"So'y, so'y, so'y," she repeated heart-brokenly.

Mycroft's eyes widened – he had definitely not expected that!

"Uh, um, Alex, uh," he stammered. "I'm not – I'm not angry with you."

Alex looked up, though her sobs didn't subside.

"I was just observing," _idiot, Mycroft, she doesn't know that word. _"Um, examining – _playing."_

The toddler wiped her eyes, "Game?"

"Yes!" Mycroft replied eagerly. "I was just playing a game."

"No mad?"

"No," Mycroft gave a sigh of relief as she slowly stopped crying. "Come on, let's get you up out of the snow. You're soaking."

Alex wrapped her arms around Mycroft's neck as he carried her back to the house, and clung to him as he removed her coat, gloves, hat and scarf. She only let go of him when she fell asleep an hour later on his lap in his armchair by the fire, her cheek resting between his shoulder and neck.

He found himself absent-mindedly rubbing her back as she hiccupped and sniffled as she dozed. He found it quite therapeutic, holding a completely reliant, completely vulnerable child whilst staring into the flames.

He had so much to worry about. His job made him see the worst sides of life, and he was the orchestrator of some of it. Though he tried to convince himself otherwise, it still hurt when he wrote at the bottom of his plans and schemes – _Collateral Damage Expected. _The little girl in his arms didn't care about the things he had done or was about to do. She didn't see him as the cold apathetic person that he was. She was too young and too innocent to see any of that. She was the only person in the world that neither feared, resented, nor respected him. She just unconditionally loved him.

Though, he didn't let that mean too much to him. After all, she loved that scraggly teddy that she wouldn't sleep without unconditionally.

"Mycroft, I -" May stopped suddenly in the doorway as she saw her dozing daughter.

"You're late. That's not like you," Mycroft remarked in low voice.

May ran a hand through her unkempt hair and sat opposite him in the other armchair, tucking her legs up beneath her. She looked so childish, sat like that, chewing on her sleeve. It was hard to believe that Mycroft was holding _her _child.

"I, uh, got caught up," she gave him a fake smile, then diverted her attention to Alex and gave a genuine one. "She seems content."

Mycroft glanced down at the toddler resting on his chest, "Yes she does, doesn't she. I wish I could say the same about her mother."

May sighed and seemed to be fighting an impulse to roll her eyes. Perhaps that would seem too immature for a mother to be doing.

"It's been a long day. I just want to go home, have a long bath and watch a Disney film with Alex in our bed."

"Well you're free to take her whenever you like."

May leant forward and gently rubbed Alex's back, "Hey sweetie, come on, pull yourself around."

Alex groaned and lifted her head up, rubbing her eyes tiredly, "Mum?"

"Hello. Time to go home now," May lifted a semi-conscious Alex onto her hip.

Mycroft ignored the cool chill where Alex's warmth had once been.

"Don't wanna," Alex whined.

"We'll watch One Hundred and One Dalmatians," May tempted with a teasing raise of her eyebrow.

Alex shook her head, now more awake, "Back Cordon!"

"Black Cauldron? If you want to. It's a bit scary for a girl your age isn't it?"

"No," she again shook her head emphatically, making large, clumsy movements with her arms. "Sher'ock dagons!"

May looked confused, so Mycroft elaborated.

"Apparently Sherlock does an adequate dragon voice. She was talking about it earlier."

"Ohh, that's why you like the dragons from the Black Cauldron."

Alex nodded.

May smiled, "That's sweet. Anyway, we'd better get home before the snow gets any worse. Say bye to Uncle Mycroft."

"Bye-bye!" Alex waved at him. "See you soon!"

As Mycroft walked to the front door with them, he thought,

_Yes, I don't doubt you will._

Best hope he didn't have another report to complete on that day.

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	3. New Buddy

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: Oops, thought I'd already uploaded this. Sorry guys! It was only when I was writing the next chapter of Exception that I realised. Sorry! And for those who have read Exception, a familiar face in this chapter!**

**Enjoy:**

_Alex aged 4._

School was nothing like it looked on the TV. Alex had come to that conclusion. There wasn't any chatting around the lockers or singing about what the weather was like that day, or even anyone smiling. Looking around the playground, Alex saw that a smile was rare. Granted, it was a cold, miserable Tuesday morning in the middle of October but someone could at least grin!

Alex sighed and sat down at the little wooden picnic bench in the far corner of the yard, and began to inspect the chips in the wood. There was nothing better to do. It would be so much better and more beneficial to be back at home. Her mother had briefly kissed her on the cheek and ushered her through the gates before taking off again in that impatient, wild way of hers. Alex should have just bolted back home after that.

It always made Alex wonder what her mother was doing to make her look so stressed when Alex was dropped off at one of her uncles' or at school. It must be something taxing because every time she came to pick her up, she was like a drawn, limp doll that just wanted to snuggle up at watch DVDs with the blinds shut.

Perhaps it was better not to wonder. Sherlock had told Alex that. She, in turn, translated that as 'that's grown-up stuff and shouldn't be meddled with by me… like coffee.'

Sherlock wasn't the only one to offer advice in her family though. In fact, just last night Alex's mother had taken her aside and told her firmly that it was time to start making friends and fitting in at school. She then slapped Sherlock when he insinuated that her daughter had the social skills of a sociopathic leper.

Just the thought of having to mix with that group of crusty-nosed, chocolate faced, screaming rabble made Alex's nose curl – an unfortunate habit picked up from Mycroft. Sherlock had told her that she needed to grow out of it before she became a snob. Alex didn't know what a snob was, but didn't like the way it sounded on her tongue so tried to stop mirroring Mycroft.

"Hi Alex," a voice said from behind her.

Alex barely turned at the tones of Mrs Duarte and shuffled over as the woman sat next to her on the bench.

"What do you want?" Alex asked dully.

"Alex," Mrs Duarte scolded. "You shouldn't speak to people like that. No one will want to be friends with you if you're rude to them. And you won't be a very happy little girl is no one will be your friend, will you?"

Alex shrugged, "Most of my family are rude to each other and they're pretty happy."

Mrs Duarte paused uncomfortably for a moment and had to think carefully what to say next, "Yes, well, that's at home, but _here _we don't like people who are rude to other people so next time when someone sits next to you, you should just say 'hello'."

"Hello," Alex echoed emotionlessly.

"There's no need to say it now, we're already in a conversation."

Alex groaned, "Make your mind up."

"Alex."

"Sorry."

Mrs Duarte pursed her lips, "Come on now, you don't really want to be sat here all on your own –"

_Yes I do._

"—go and play with the others in the sand pit."

"I don't want –"

"Ah-ah," the teacher held her hand up, stemming Alex's response. "Go and play."

Glumly, Alex slumped her shoulders in defeat and swung one leg over the bench, then the other, and sent a pleading glance back to Mrs Duarte. She got a firm nod in the direction of the other children, and Alex pouted, standing up and dragging her feet over to the sandpit.

"What are _you _doing here?" was the immediate response of the group.

"I was forced to play with you," Alex replied glumly.

Jessica, a blonde-haired girl with pigtails and permanent pout, put her hands on her hips.

"There's no room for you. You'll crush our sandcastle," she pointed proudly to the mound of sand with a pathetic flag in the top.

Alex tilted her head in confusion, "Where's the moat? Or the portcullis? Or even the battlements? That's not a castle. That's a hill with a flag in. A golf course, maybe. Definitely not a castle."

"Yes it is!" Jessica cried in outrage, picking up a plastic doll and forcing her into the top of the 'castle'. "And that's me, I'm the princess. You can be my servant."

Alex leaned forward to inspect the doll, "Isn't she too pretty to be you?"

Jessica promptly burst into tears.

Alex sat on the chairs outside the head teacher's office, swinging her legs and half-heartedly listening to whatever the woman was droning on about.

"You _can't _just go around being mean to people, Alex."

"I wasn't being mean," Alex defended. "I was telling the truth, like you always tell me."

Mrs Duarte sighed, "But I also say that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

"_But _that would be being two-faced because I would be saying one thing but meaning the other!"

"Not if you didn't say anything at all," Mrs Duarte replied patronizingly.

"But then I'd just be a… a plank!" Alex cried.

Mrs Duarte frowned in confusion, "What do you mean, Alex?"

"If I just stood there and said nothing and did nothing, I'd just be a plank…" Alex's eyes shifted out a focus as a thought struck her. "… Actually, it would be quite fun being a plank… I could blunt-force-trauma people–"

"Okay!" Mrs Duarte quickly shouted, ignoring the incredulous look the secretary was giving Alex. "Well, it's obvious that you don't get along with people your own age."

Alex nodded, "Finally something we agree on. My uncle says it's because I'm used to talking to intelligent people so when I talk to people here, it's like _they're _all planks."

"Right, thanks for that," Mrs Duarte said under her breath. "As I was saying, since you don't mingle well with other children, how would you feel about being someone's buddy?"

There was a pause.

"Buddy…?" Alex said the word slowly and uncomfortably, having never come across it before.

"Yes. Someone from the next class up to play with at break times."

"Umm, okay. But if I don't like them, I'm not going to pretend to be their friend. Unless they become my enemy."

"What?" Mrs Duarte asked exasperatedly, then wishing she hadn't.

Alex leaned forward, whispering, "Because you keep your friends close," she leant in further. "But your enemies closer."

Having being sent out to play in the yard whilst Mrs Duarte found this new-fangled 'buddy', Alex curled up in the corner of the yard, skimming tiny stones across the gravel. She wondered what her family would say if she murdered the teacher… probably hide the body first and scold later. It wouldn't be too hard to pull off, but Sherlock was taking her to the museum at the weekend and she doubted she would still be able to go if she committed murder. She reckoned a few stars would be taken from her chart if she did that.

"Alex," said the very person she was plotting against.

The girl looked up tiresomely, then jolted somewhat at the little boy standing moodily by the teacher's side, just a year older than her.

"This is Logan," Mrs Duarte snatched Logan's hand into hers. "Logan, this is Alex. This is your new buddy!"

"Don't want a stupid buddy," Logan mumbled, pulling his hand away.

Mrs Duarte gave him a stern look, "Do you want to have the planet book at reading time this afternoon?"

Logan folded his arms with a scowl but remained silent.

"Good," Mrs Duarte said, then turned to Alex. "You two be good now. Get to know each other. Tell me how you get on later, I'm going to have to shoot off to a meeting. Cheerio!"

"I'd like to actually shoot her," Alex was meant to whisper, but it came out at a normal volume.

Logan looked vaguely surprised but nodded and maintained his scowl.

"So… what do you want to do? I suppose you want to play with… dolls or something," Logan shivered at the word.

"Ah, sexism at its finest."

Logan's jaw dropped, eyes widening. She seemed to have captured one hundred percent of his attention.

"What?"

"You said," Logan giggled nervously. "You said 'sex'!"

Alex blew out a breath, deadpanning, "Are you really the most intelligent one they could come up with?"

"Hey!"

Alex shrugged, looking over Logan's shoulder at the girls loudly playing hopscotch with their frilly skirts and neat plaits bouncing with every step. She glanced down at her grey trousers, rolling them up to her knees. They looked ridiculous, with a dot-to-dot array of bruises and gravel indents from the wild few days she had trekking across the edge of the yard, nothing like their almost powder-like legs. Alex narrowed her eyes in thought.

"You want something to do?" Alex asked.

Logan snapped out of the daydream he had strayed into in Alex's silence, "What, yeah. Yeah, what you got in mind?"

"Fields out of bounds isn't it?"

"Yeah. Rain last night made it too muddy to walk on without slipping over."

Alex grinned, "Good. Race you to the bottom."

Sherlock Holmes was updating his blog _The Science of Deduction _when he got the call. It was his sister, saying that she was held up at work – whatever counted as work for her at the moment – and that Alex needed picking up early from school.

"Is she ill?" Sherlock asked warily, caught somewhere between concern and not wanting to deal with child-vomit.

_"No idea. They just said she'll need a change of clothes. You've got some at your flat, haven't you?"_

"Yes, but why can't you send Mycroft? He's closer to the school than I am."

_"She specifically asked for you if I wasn't able to get there. Look, I'm going to have to go. Thanks Sherlie!"_

Sherlock growled at the nickname and ended the call. There would only be one reason why Alex would _specifically _ask for him over Mycroft – if she was in trouble. She knew he was the lenient one and Mycroft was the lecturing one. She was smart enough to notice and exploit that fact.

He just hoped she hadn't murdered someone, he was rather looking forward to the museum visit at the weekend.

Alex tried very hard to seem like she was listening to the irate woman standing in front of her, having been pulled out of her meeting early… to deal with Alex. But truth be told, Alex wasn't listening to a word of what she was saying, and when she caught Logan's eye over the woman's shoulder, it became very hard to repress a grin.

"You think this is funny do you?!" Mrs Duarte exploded.

Alex contorted her face to make her muscles relax from their smiling position, averting her gaze from Logan and focussing on picking dried mud from her sleeve. Mrs Duarte batted her hand away.

"No, leave that on! I want your father to see how naughty you've been."

"Firstly, Sherlock's my uncle. _Secondly_, I haven't been naughty. We just got a bit muddy, right Logan?" Alex prompted.

He nodded rapidly, "Yeah, we both fell over."

"And rolled twenty yards through knee-deep mud to the very bottom of the field until you both look like you've been swimming through the sewers?" Mrs Duarte continued sceptically.

"Yup… and we wouldn't really be _swimming _through sewers. It would sort of be a wading movement," Alex caught look of the woman's reddening face and quickly backtracked. "Which I suppose... isn't… really… important."

The last word was whispered.

Mrs Duarte opened her mouth to begin another rant, but was cut short by the buzz of the school intercom.

"This will be your uncle, Alex. Let's see what he has to say about this," she said and held in the button for the door. "Come on in Mr Holmes."

Alex kept her head down as she heard Sherlock's footsteps, filthy black curls obscuring her face. She felt Logan quickly hop onto the seat next to her and hold her hand.

"Will you get into trouble?" he whispered childishly.

"Dunno yet," she whispered back, listening to the headteacher telling her uncle about the escapades down the hill.

She frowned when she didn't hear a response from Sherlock, and dared a look up through her hair. She was startled when she realised that he was trying not to laugh.

"Alex," he said. "Come on home, we're going to have a long chat about this."

He gave her a covert wink, telling her to go along with it. She played the part well, having played it in front of her mother and Mycroft since she could talk. She slumped her shoulders and dragged her school bag dejectedly behind her as she walked to her uncle's side.

"Bye, Logan," she bade solemnly. "Sorry, Mrs Duarte."

The woman pursed her lips.

Sherlock put a firm hand on her shoulder, "Come on you. I'm sorry for any inconvenience Alex may have caused today. It won't happen again."

Alex nodded as Sherlock took her hand and led her back down the corridor and out of the school door. Once they were on the main road, Alex perked up again, picking up her feet and walking with a spring in her step.

"What a female dog," she remarked.

Sherlock looked down at her incredulously, "I honestly don't know where you get half of your vocabulary from."

"So you aren't angry?" Alex checked as they continued to walk further down the street.

"No," Sherlock smirked. "I did much worse at school and I'm sure you will in the next few years. Besides, Mycroft's sending one of his fancy cars and the look on his face when he sees the state of it when you get out will be priceless."

"The one with the white seats?"

"Yep," Sherlock replied happily, popping the 'p'.

Alex grinned, "But what do I say if he's angry with me for being so muddy?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Just say you fell."

"And rolled twenty yards through knee-deep mud to the very bottom of the field until I look like I've been swimming through the sewers?" Alex asked, echoing her teacher's words.

"You wouldn't exactly be _swimming_ through sewers."

"That's what I said!"

"You'd be more–"

"Wading!" they both finished at the same time.

Sherlock smiled, "Great minds think alike."

"You think I could have a mind like yours when I'm older?"

"Maybe."

They came to a stop at the sleek black car parked on the edge of the road.

"Go on then. The filthier you get this car, the more expensive the gift I'll buy you from the museum gift shop," Sherlock said.

Alex's eyes sparkled, "Deal!" she shouted, and clambered in.

**HUGE thank you to: animechick247, mercenary2. 0, Bunnyrabbit100, OnceUponADeduction, FlewandFlied, kitty kat wings, LoyalElf, shnuffeluv, BookPond, ShatteredBlue221, and rycbar15 for reviewing!**

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**Abby**

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	4. Haunted House

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or anything related to the show. All rights go to the BBC. I own Alex :)**

**Author's Note: So sorry for the wait but I have been ill and I couldn't look at my computer screen until a few days ago. Thanks for sticking with me!**

_Alex is six years old._

Alessandra Holmes was determined. And so when she wanted to do something, there was no way on God's Earth that she was going to be stopped. Especially when she was left with the nanny. It was only on rare occasions that she was left with the elderly woman that lived a few streets away – when all three other Holmeses were busy – but it was time that Alex thrived on. And that's where she was going today.

She played the part well, saying a dutiful goodbye to her mother at the front door, accepting the kiss on the cheek with a solemn smile. And for full effect, Alex even stood on her tiptoes to reach the high window in the living room and gave a sad little wave.

But as soon as her mother's car rounded the corner, Alex grinned impishly.

"I'm going out Mrs McFall!" Alex called as she pulled on her wellies.

The old woman came shuffling into the living room, "Where to dearie?"

"Just out with friends, Mum said I could. They only live 'round the corner," Alex beamed up at her innocently and remembered what she had rehearsed. "We're gonna play Crash Bandicoot and eat jammy dodgers and take the dog out for a walk."

Poor gullible Mrs McFall smiled tenderly, "Well you have a good time and be back when you're supposed to."

"I will, Mrs McFall," Alex promised.

The woman cooed, "You're a lovely girl, Alex. A real credit to your mother."

Alex stopped midway pulling her Parka coat on, guilt bubbling in her stomach. This was the bit she always hated: the guilt. It would wear off once she was out with her friends. She just had to work up the courage to actually get out of the door first.

"Go on then, little miss," Mrs McFall encouraged. "See you soon!"

That was when Alex forced herself out of the door and took off at a run down the driveway without looking back. She ran down the street and rounded the corner near the post office. Her face split into a beam as she saw her gaggle of friends stood waiting for her.

"Where've you been Al'?!" Logan exclaimed. "We thought you weren't going to turn up!"

Alex slowed down, stopping next to them and catching her breath, "Yeah, I thought Mum would never leave," she nodded to Raz and Lee. "Hi guys."

Raz was going through that all-important stage, and with him being the eldest (eleven) and Alex being the youngest, he just nodded to her as if she were merely an acquaintance. Not that she liked him much anyway after he mangled her bike. Meh, it got her a new one anyway.

Lee smiled back at her.

"Got my bike?" she asked.

He nodded, wheeling it out from behind the salt bin. She took hold of the handlebars and ran her hands over the frame fondly.

"So where we going? You said it was going to be brilliant," she gave them a dubious look. "Are we going to the woods 'cause that's so _boring _now!"

Raz smirked smugly, "No, not the woods. I've got somewhere _way _cooler."

The other three leaned in, listening raptly. Raz leant his bike against the wall and began his conspiratorial whisper.

"You three 'eard about the ol' boarding house near Clover's Footbridge?"

They shook their heads.

"Well," Raz continued importantly. "Rumours 'round the yard at Big School are it's," he paused for effect, "…_haunted."_

Logan and Lee grinned as Alex gasped excitedly, "Really? Like really actually haunted?"

"Yup," Raz leant back against the wall coolly, folding his arms. "100%. They say there're flies and everything around it. No-one's told the adults after what 'appened with the ghost that turned out to be a dustsheet. And no one dares go in, see? This is our chance to move up the rankings on the street. You in?"

Logan and Lee readily agreed, Lee rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Alex, however, began to hesitate.

Raz groaned, "Come on, Alex. Don't let the team down. We need you 'cause you'll look innocent an' stuff since you're only a kid –"

"I'm not a kid!" Alex retorted hotly. "I'm not! It's just… Clover's Footbridge is pretty far away."

Raz scoffed, "See! You are just a little kid. I don't even know why you're in this gang."

"Whoa, chill Raz," Logan stepped in, putting an arm around Alex. "Give her a break. She's younger than all of us, we should be looking out for her not –"

"No!" Alex wiggled out from under his arm. "I'll come. I'm not a kid, and I don't need looking after. I'll even go in first."

Raz nodded, impressed but still disbelieving, "Come on then 'olmes. Prove you belong with us. Race ya!"

He hopped on his bike and set off, the other two boys following behind him, yelling in glee. Alex though had a little trouble getting her bike started, and she looked down to see that someone had chained the pedal to the spokes.

She growled, ripping off the cheap plastic chain and throwing it on the ground. The boys were now out of sight, but Alex wasn't worried. Uncle Sherlock had shown her every part of London, every hideaway and every nook. And there was more than one way to get to the boarding house.

* * *

><p>Alex nearly swerved off the path in laughter when she caught up to the trio of boys – Raz's face was priceless. The shortcut had worked like a treat. But she knew her place, and kept to the back of the group. She swore she saw a flash of pride in Logan's face.<p>

The footbridge rattled as their bikes trundled over the wooden planks and they skidded to a stop, discarding their bikes on the grassy verge. The boarding house was a little walk away from the road surrounded by trees. In the past, it had been a beautiful holidaying spot, but now the carefully trimmed foliage had grown wild and abundant, giving it the perfect haunted house factor.

"Ooh, looks creepy," Alex said with a nervous giggle.

"And it's getting dark," Lee pointed to the overcast sky.

"Scared?" Logan asked, tickling Alex's side playfully.

She swatted his hand away with a pout.

"Right, off you go then 'olmes," Raz interrupted the moment. "Go on."

Alex swallowed, looking up at the decrepit house. Most of the windows were smashed and the door was hanging off its hinges. Inside was completely dark. Alex didn't like the dark. But she couldn't be seen as weak in the gang. It was only something a child that age could understand. It wasn't a circle of friends, it was a _pride_. A pack. You don't show weakness or the pack moves on without you.

She cleared her throat and nodded. Raz held out his hand towards the building in invitation and gave her a shove. She stumbled slightly in her little red wellies but immediately righted herself with as much dignity as a six year old could possess.

Casting a look back at Logan, who smiled in reassurance, she forced her chin up and walked over to the door. It creaked on its rusty hinges as she pushed it open. It was so dark and scary to the little girl, that it was physically painful to plaster a smile to her face when she turned to the others and motioned for them to come in.

"Nah, go further in first!" Raz shouted, seemingly enjoying himself.

"How much further?"

"To the top o' the stairs!"

Alex nodded unsurely and began to mount the steps. Halfway up she wondered if they would hold her weight, but she wasn't too concerned about that. That was adult talk. She was a little preoccupied worrying about the ghost under the floorboards that might eat her.

She looked down at the floor in worry, and frowned. There were muddy footprints. Uncle Sherlock had told her to watch out for these vital clues when they had been searching for Mum in hide and seek. She parroted her uncle and wiped her finger along the mud. It was dry. Alex let out a sigh of relief – that meant they were gone.

However, when she got to the top of the stairs, a horrendous smell hit her. She gagged but managed to keep her strawberry sandwiches inside her. That was when she noticed the buzzing. She slapped her cheek, feeling something fuzzy there. The buzzing was getting louder the further into the heart of the house she walked. It was as if she was hypnotised as she pushed open the door on the landing.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was laid back in Lestrade's chair in his office while the detective inspector was out chasing up boring people for boring paperwork. When Lestrade returned, Sherlock groaned.<p>

"Please tell me you have something half interesting for me," he said dramatically.

"Murder," Lestrade replied simply, picking up his coat. "A group of kids found a body in an old boarding house near Clover's… something…"

"Clover's Footbridge?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade nodded.

"Relatively near my sister's house…" Sherlock trailed off thoughtfully. "This group of kids, what details do you have on them?"

"Err, three older boys and a younger girl I think," Lestrade replied a little confusedly. "The boys ran off when uniforms arrived though."

Sherlock groaned and slammed his fist down on the desk, "For God's sake!"

* * *

><p>Alex decided she didn't like the frowning police officer that kept placing a hideous blanket over her shoulders. He kept looking at her weirdly, not like Lestrade did at all. She was on her own now; Logan, Lee and Raz had scarpered, Logan being dragged away by Raz. She had begged the officers not to ring her mother or Uncle Mycroft, and instead implored that her Uncle Sherlock was on the way.<p>

She sighed and swung her small legs back and forth on the police car bonnet. More police had turned up, and some silly people in puffy blue suits. Alex was about to laugh when she saw them, but thought that it would be 'a bit not good'.

Huffing and resting her chin on her hand in annoyance, she wondered where on Earth Uncle Sherlock was. She always was an impatient child. However, she didn't have to wait long as another police car pulled up beside her, but this one holding an extremely unamused Uncle Sherlock.

He climbed out and walked over to her with the 'you're in a lot of trouble' face that Alex so hated. He stopped in front of her and raised his eyebrow.

"I've just been talking to a certain Mrs McFall," he began slowly. "Funny, she seems to think that you are visiting your friend Josh… I can't recall you ever talking about a boy called Josh. Does he live here?" Sherlock asked lightly, pointing to the crumbling boarding house swarmed by police.

Alex shook her head, looking at her shoes.

Sherlock sighed, "You're very lucky it isn't your mother coming to get you, Alex. She seemed very angry over the phone when I told her."

Alex's face flushed with emotion and she tried to rein in her tears, "I'm in trouble when I get home, aren't I?"

Sherlock nodded but before he got a chance to carry on his scolding, someone in blue tapped him on the shoulder and motioned to the house. Sherlock looked longingly at the building, then back to Alex.

"Right, you, in Lestrade's car. I don't want you moving an inch. I'll be two minutes inside, then I'm going to take you home and you can tell me all about Josh and about what you've been doing today, sound good?" Sherlock said with a fake smile.

Alex didn't reply, she just slipped dejectedly off the car bonnet and shuffled over to where she'd been allocated, sniffling. Sherlock felt a pang of guilt then, but brushed it off. He motioned to Alex for her to stay put and jogged over to the house.

Alex watched him go, her stomach twisting horribly. She hated being in trouble with Sherlock. He was always the laidback uncle, and when he was angry, it made her feel awful. Mycroft didn't have the same effect, he just shouted when he was cross with her.

True to his word, Sherlock was out having solved the murder in under three minutes. The car ride home was silent as Lestrade dropped them off at Alex's house. Only then did the girl speak.

"Where's Mum?" she asked, seeing the car missing. "She still not back?"

Sherlock coughed uncomfortably, "She's… indisposed."

"What does that mean?"

"Busy."

"Again?"

"Your mother is a busy woman," Sherlock said shortly. "Now go and get dressed for bed and meet me in the living room."

Alex bowed her head under the strict tones and scurried through the door and up the stairs to her bedroom. She arrived back reluctantly, sporting a pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles pyjamas and clutching the turtle named Leonardo in her hand. The sight almost made Sherlock laugh, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be angry with her.

"Sit down," he pointed to the sofa.

She obliged.

"Now, whose idea was it to go to Clover's Footbridge?" Sherlock began.

"Raz's."

Sherlock pursed his lips at the name, "And did you think for just a second that you would get into trouble for going there? It's nearly three miles away."

Alex mumbled something incoherent.

"Speak up," Sherlock ordered sternly.

"I just wanted to fit in," she repeated quietly, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Sherlock pulled her hand away, "You'll fray it."

It wasn't said sternly. He tried to catch her eye, but she kept looking away. Running a hand through his hair in exasperation, he tried a different approach.

"Anything could have happened to you today," he said imploringly. "What if you had gone into that house and seen who had done that to the man you found. Do you think the person who killed him would just let you walk away?"

"No, he would have killed me too to make sure that I wouldn't rat him out."

"Probably. Or he would have kidnapped you and done even more horrible things to you. You should know about this Alex, given what I do. We've talked about this so many times before."

Alex pulled a cushion onto her lap and cuddled it tightly, "But Raz said it would be okay."

Sherlock sighed and sat next to the girl on the sofa, "Alex, look at me."

She did, and Sherlock saw the tears gathering.

"Who do you trust more, me or Raz?" he asked seriously.

"You."

"Why?"

"Because you're a grown up, and you're clever, and you don't shout, and you're my uncle, and you like me, and… and… and you're tall," she finished lamely.

Sherlock didn't fight the smile at that, "All of those are true. So next time, when Raz wants you to do something reckless and stupid, think of me. Do you understand what I mean?"

Alex nodded, saying slowly, "I think so… you mean, if they want me to do something, I should do whatever you would do."

"No," Sherlock replied hastily. "No because I'm an adult so I can do things that you can't do. What I mean is, if you are doing something and you know that I'd be angry if I found out, you shouldn't be doing it."

"Okay. So basically, you're allowed to get yourself killed but I'm not because if I died, you'd be angry. Is that right?" Alex asked.

"Well, I wouldn't be angry, I'd be upset."

"Would you be angry at the person who killed me?"

"Most definitely."

"Would Uncle Mycroft?"

"I'm sure he would be."

"And Mum."

"Mm-hm."

Alex smiled, satisfied and sank back into the sofa, tears gone.

"So you aren't mad anymore?" she double-checked.

"No, not anymore. As long as you don't go chasing murderers again, knowingly or not."

Alex nodded vehemently, "I can do that."

"Then I suppose we don't have anything else to talk about, do we?"

"Hmm, well… can we talk about why bodies smell so bad?" she asked with wide eyes.

Sherlock smirked, _that _he could do.

* * *

><p><strong>HUGE thank you to: Loyal Elf, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, mercenary2 . 0, FlewandFlied, shnuffeluv, PumpkinKiten, and emilybrock101 for reviewing!<strong>

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